Mellodyssey
by emilycupcakee
Summary: Remake of the famous Greek epic, The Odyssey, by Homer. Except with characters from Death Note. This story is 24 chapters, a prologue, and extra content. It's mostly an original story with OCs, but has references to the themes and plot points of The Odyssey. Yay(
1. Chapter 1

The sky darkened as the blonde man turned his face towards the heavens. "Hey Calliope, I have a favor to call in!" he shouted upwards, hands on his hips. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "I need someone to give me some information about a certain albino boy and I heard you were the one to talk to. That you were a part of the Muses." A minute passed as the sun continued to sink. A brisk wind tousled Mello's perfectly even locks. It was surprisingly cold for late April in Nevada. Especially for a skinny man barely covered by his skin-tight leather vest. He was getting anxious. Where was that damn girl?

He spoke again, raising his voice against the electrical hum of the industrial park, "You know you owe me for pulling strings in New York for you. I need that information!" Mello sighed. "I better hurry things along then," he thought to himself. "Or, if you're not willing to help me on your own..." Mello lowered his tone, "there are other ways of making you cooperate..."

He drew his handgun from its usual, albeit dangerous, place in the waistband of his leather pants. Scanning the desolate parking lot, he noted all the places she might be hiding.

Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind him. "I know you're not going to shoot," Calliope stated, "You need me. I'm the only one who knows the story". He turned to face her, a shocked and perturbed expression on his face, "Why did you take so long!? I do actually have things to do." Calliope gave him an annoyed glance. She hadn't changed much since he had seen her in the city, same long blond hair and lithe figure. And of course, the trademark cold, grey eyes that all of Zeus's kin carried.

"What do you know about Near's location?" Mello inquired. "He's in LA. Probably looking for you. Mello, I think you should stay away from him. He's dangerous and looking for revenge. I have a horrible feeling that if you two meet, it won't end well for you."

Mello snorted. "I don't need your advice Muse, just your information. Now LA is a big city, do you have a more specific area?" Calliope thought for a minute and then answered, "Try the Toy District. It seems like a good fit for him." With a harsh and sarcastic laugh, Mello dismissed the young girl.

"Oh and Calliope?" he paused, "If the Muses get anymore information on that twit, be sure to contact me. You know how." Calliope nodded and slipped between two large buildings covered in pipes and surrounded by industrial equipment.

"Alright," Mello muttered to the evening, "guess we're heading to LA."


	2. Book One: Matty's Problem

"Zeus?" A skinny girl with short red hair entered a large room with hard stone walls. It was cold, but then again it was always cold around her father. She heard a click from the far end of the room and the sound of a laptop fan whirring. Crossing the expanse, the girl tried to compose herself. Truthfully, she was terrified of her father. But he was watching her. And Zeus didn't like it when his children showed fear.

She gulped and approached the black screen, which suddenly filled with the image of an jet black 'Z' against a glaring white background. An inhuman, mechanical voice erupted from the speakers. "Hello 'Athena'. What do you need dear?"

"I... Well, I think it's time. I want to assist Mello in his search for Near. He and Matt have suffered enough. Please allow me to help him father." Athena cringed at the long pause that followed, the whirring fan her only response. "Yes dear, you may help. Tell 'Calliope' that Near is in Los Angeles, California. 'Calliope' will tell 'Mello'. That is all you may do."

Athena waited for any other instructions. The 'Z' disappeared and the screen flicked black once more. The laptop shut off and the soft hum stopped. Zeus was gone for now. Athena relaxed slightly, but she knew he was just sleeping. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop herself from running out of the room, a small grin on her face.

How long had Mello been gone? 3 months, 10 days, 23 hours, 36 minutes, 14 seconds... 15 seconds... 16 seconds. Matt sighed and stared out the grimy window that looked onto the deserted street below. He could just make out a street light at the corner of his vision, flickering dimly. Rain fell softly on the roof of the mafia base like the melancholy tears of a hopeless soul. He wondered why he stuck around, waiting for the ghost of his best friend. He was almost certain Mello was dead, how could he not be? He had left New York so suddenly, and no one had heard word from him since.

"Yo a**hole. Get your s**t off my table," a burly man commanded gruffly from somewhere behind Matt. Matt dragged himself off of the dirty couch, grabbed his DS, and headed down the hall to his "bedroom", which was honestly just a cot, a sink, and a stack of game cases. When Mello was here, they had shared the biggest room in the building. Now Matt was the scrawny kid that the men could shove and order around. All the funds Mello had painstakingly secured were constantly being gambled away or used for endless crates of booze.

Matt climbed onto his bed and flicked on his DS. He tried playing Zelda, but games had lost their thrill for him recently. They were more routine than anything else, like his cigarettes. Eventually he took off his orange goggles, closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Two hours later Matt was yanked from his dreams by a loud knock on the metal door.

He could easily remember what he had dreamed. It had been the same one that always plagued him. He would be walking down a dirty alley with Mello, littered with beer bottles and garbage. They emerged onto a large city street where bright lights blinded Matt and cars zoomed by far faster than they should. Deafening ads played in Japanese on gigantic television screens, showing happy people living happy lives. They were in Tokyo. Mello started weaving his way through the large crowds and Matt followed behind. After about five minutes the two men reached a motorcycle parked on the side of the road. Like every, single, fucking time, Mello got on, saluted Matt with two fingers, and sped off. 20 seconds later, he was was lying on the pavement, his bike smashed to pieces by his side. Blood ran through his hair and seeped into his leather clothes. Matt didn't look away. He never could. But this time was different. He tore away his green eyes from the horrible scene and looked up to meet grey ones.

She had auburn hair like him, cut in a short, yet feminine, way. Time slowed and she crossed towards him, still holding his gaze. "You can prevent this," she said in a soft voice, "it doesn't have to be this way."

"How?!" Matt exclaimed. "Wammy's holds the key. Think back to your childhood. Talk to Vanessa and Melanie. That's all I can tell you. Good luck Matt, I know you can do this." And then Matt woke up.

Pulling himself back to reality, Matt stood up from the squeaky cot and shuffled towards the door. Why the hell was there someone at his door at one a.m.?! He grasped the cold handle and swung it open. "What?" he questioned the man standing on the other side of the doorframe. Marcus grinned, looking twisted in the shadows of the bare bulb that hung above him. "This guy says he knows you." he gestured towards a thin figure to his right, hidden in the low light. "Uh, come in I guess," Matt said to the stranger.

Marcus left and Matt studied the man in front of him. He looked to be in his early twenties, a bit older than Matt. The man was dressed sharply, in a dark blue suit. "Hello Mail." the man started. "Or would you rather I call you Matt?" Matt took a step backwards in shock. He could feel his head swimming. The chair had just been kicked out from under his feet at his public execution and he was swinging limply.

"Ho-How do you know my name?!"


	3. Book Two- Return

In a world where killing someone is as easy as writing their name in a Death Note, people start to rethink how easily they share their identities. How often they have casually spat out the two words assigned to them since birth. Their own personal mantra. Mail Jeevas, Mail Jeevas, Mail Jeevas.

Children that grew up at Wammy's orphanage were taught to hide their names. The smartest kids in the world got to name themselves. Some went for odd names, such as Near and Mello to assert their individuality. Mail, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to blend in and fade into the background. So he chose the name Matt, and in everyone's eyes, that was final. No one had called him Mail in over ten years. He hadn't told a soul besides Mello. So why did this stranger know it?

"Relax," the man told Matt, noticing his agitation, "I don't even own a Death Note, much less going to kill you with one." Matt wanted to believe him, but he knew he couldn't trust anyone. Mello had shown him that. Yet, if the man did have a Death Note, he could've killed him a long time ago.

Slowly rising from his seat on the cot, he studied at the stranger in front of him. His earlier imposing presence seemed to dissipate the longer Matt stared. The guy had short black hair that looked as if it had been hurriedly combed back only moments before. And his sharp suit was revealed to be frayed and disheveled with a second glance. In fact, Matt mused, he almost took on the appearance of a little boy when they try on their father's suit for the first time. He seemed out of place in it, despite his collected attitude.

"Matt? I hate to interrupted your thoughts, but I'm on a tight schedule and this is urgent."

"Ah, right. So er, who are you?"

"Well," the man gave him a look, "I'm a friend of Mello's."

Matt was immediately taken aback. "What? Since when?" Matt suspected this wasn't true, he had been with Mello most of his life after all.

"It doesn't matter how I know him. All you need to know is that Mello is in danger. And I need you to help me save him," the strange man gave Matt a pleading look. Matt could've sworn the eyes that were blue a moment earlier, flashed steely grey. Matt found himself wanting to trust the the stranger, despite his most basic instincts telling him not to. "Alright," he finally said, "But at least tell me your name. I mean, you already know both of mine." The man smiled at the scrawny gamer. "Gladly," he grinned. "My name is Janus, but if it pleases you, you may call me Jan."

"Okay... Jan, how do we help Mello?" The man pondered for a moment, as if he were turning over possible responses in his mind. "I have reason to believe that we may find out information on Mello's location if we go to Wammy's orphanage. Near, a known target of his, left soon after you two did. A contact there mentioned there were circulating rumors but they would only speak them in person. A have a car waiting a block away and a plane booked to leave in exactly one hour. Are you coming?" Matt could only stand in silence, his mind turning. Would he be going back to England? To Wammy's? Could he face his childhood? Everything was happening so fast. He lit up a cigarette to steady his thoughts. "Yeah," he said in a strong voice, "Yeah I'm coming."

Jan grinned again, "Glad to have you on board." He took out a sleek phone from his breast pocket. "Halle? He's in. We'll meet you in 10 minutes."

Meanwhile, Matt was quickly shoving his few belongings into the thin rucksack he kept under his bed. Just the essentials of course. Zelda, Mario, Final Fantasy, Pokemon, his favorite goggles, a pair of pacman Boxers, and his smokes. He couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face. For the first time in three months, Matt was actually hopeful.


End file.
